Ink Runs Like Blood
by J S Arnold
Summary: Elena can't believe what has happened to her - and she is frightened that by the time they find her, it will be far too late.
1. Chapter 1

AR One-Shot

I Do Not Own The Vampire Diaries

**Ink Runs Like Blood**

The sparrow waited for her in the large tree outside her window, his slightly blue feather's invisible in front of the backdrop of the night. Tonight there were no stars or a moon, it was pitch black and as opaque as the dark glasses he wore when he was outside during the day. He would wait for however long it took for her to fall asleep, he had all the time in the world to wait. More than that, he thought wearily, because he could quite easily outlive this godforsaken planet, if he didn't get himself killed.

And if he indeed was going to live beyond the apocalypse, he needed to conquer every challenge this world had to offer. _She_, the beauty innocently unaware, was a challenge. He tugged gently at the two pieces of black cloth in his hand. This was going to be fun.

When she finally let her diary slip from her fingers, he knew she was fast asleep. Absently, he wondered what could have made her wait so long to let herself fall into slumber – and then he pondered if she knew she was being watched. A watching wolf always makes the sheep nervous, he thought. Except, he was no wolf, he was a vampire.

He returned to a human state quickly and easily, becoming a crouching figure on a tree branch. He knew no one was watching, but still he glanced at the empty street. There were no cars tonight and everything was still. Even the window opened without a sound as he pried it open with his nails, and he was able to slip inside unnoticed.

Elena awoke to see fabric over her eyes - she could see little pin-points of light because the cloth was thin, but not enough to see anything substantial. She could hear the sound of an engine softly growling in the background and she could smell leather close to her face. She was laid out on a firm bed and her body ached in ways she had never felt. She had never been an athlete, very rarely took part in sports, and yet her limbs throbbed as if she had been running.

She tried to speak, to call out, to anyone but every time she moved her mouth something rough rubbed against her lips. The two corners of her mouth felt raw and red. It was all she could do to moan, but even that made the aching dryness in her throat sting. Images of being in a coffin, trapped and alone, flooded her mind and made it impossible to think of anything else. She knew she wasn't in her bedroom any more.

The humming noise stopped suddenly, and she felt the insides of her chest crash against her ribs. The uneasiness grew in her stomach and she tasted blood in her mouth as blood escaped from her torn lip. She could feel the burning pain of the wound and hands on her face, and the knowledge that someone was with her, she wasn't alone, gave her some comfort; if she _were _trapped in a coffin 6 feet underground, then surly she would be alone.

But her relief ended abruptly when she felt a soft pressure on her lips. She felt whoever leaned over her sucking the wound, taking blood, and a sick feeling formed within her. It would have been different if she knew that vampires only existed in books, that they only existed in nightmares, but as it sucked she _knew_.


	2. Klaustrophobia

Chapter 2

Klaustrophobia

It was _Damon_. She knew it was him embracing her, but this knowledge gave her no comfort and she felt the first tendrils of fear weave their way into the confusion. She did not need to hear him speak to know it was him, feel his hand on the side of her face, because the lips on hers were supernaturally tender and she was sure that this man was not Stephan. He would never gag or harm her, he would not make her cry and make muffled pleas.

Damon watched her struggle with the ropes before he undid them – knowing that if she did try to escape she would not get far and his conviction would only be stronger. He would always love her, of course, because she resembled what he had thought was Katherine, before she revealed herself as a beast. She reminded him of a past where he was happy, and when he knew she was his. He had never been one to settle for less that what he wanted, but this woman writhing on the floor at his feet made him think that he could – just this once.

She gasped for breath as he removed the gag from her mouth. She blinked up at him when he removed the blind fold, her eyes hooded by dark wet lashes and more beautiful than his memory recalled. She did look delicious as she stared and he bent down at her side; He parted his lips slightly and lowered himself to her.

He licked the sides of her mouth where the wounds were ripe and oozing blood. She wanted to turn her head away, to make her lips inaccessible to him, but she was frightened to think of what he would do if she bore her neck to him. It was better to let him have access to her mouth than to her artery.

She opened her mouth to ask what the hell was happening, but he moved in before she could speak. She felt his tongue fill her little mouth like a gag and make her choke. He drew back again only when they both knew it would hurt her too much to scream.

He touched his mouth against her cheek before he spoke, breathing cold air into her ear, "I don't want _her_ any more." he told her, planting cool kisses on on the side of her head. She had bruises all over her face, and the dark patches were just another temptation. He wouldn't kill this one, he told himself, as if he were trying to convince his inner beast to behave, even if the smell of her blood made warning himself that he could not kill her so much more difficult. He wanted her alive. He wanted her to be his.

He let his fangs extend and the creature take control; he could shut himself off as he killed her, and not have the image of her slowly growing pale at the forefront of his mind for an eternity, or until the apocalypse came, or when Klaus found out the truth. Not that Klaus would care about one insignificant human, he thought wearily, not an original as old as he. Damon knew from personal experience that after a century and half you stop feeling regret for your kills – you turn-off. He did not care about Elena, or Katherine, or Klaus, any more than he cared about himself. He would not die because of what happened this night.

Elena saw the a face at the window that she did not recognise immediately, and couldn't save her without an invitation. Klaus.


	3. Ink Runs Like Blood

3. Ink Runs Like Blood

The wind outside the house was strong, and the gales had taken down the electricity a few moments before, plunging the world into darkness. Elena could only see his siloette at the window because of the moon, which was half covered by cloud.

_Please_, she pleaded with the Original silently, her eyes wide, _please save me_. But what could he do if he broke down that door? Overlooking the fact that he hadn't been invited, _did that matter to originals_, he had promised not to kill the people she cared about and she knew that also meant the monster above her. She thought she saw his arrogent lips twitch at the corners and the agony at the pit of her stomach grew stronger. This can't be it.

"I will have you," Damon snapped, his voice more animal than human, "You will be mine!" and his fangs grazed her neck. It was little comfort that she knew he wouldn't want to kill her quickly. She thought that he would take a little blood, wait, and then take a little more – do it slowly like the creatures of myth and legend. He would savour her taste because his release from her would be a release from Katherine. Katherine was making him do this; it was her fault he would kill Elena – not his.

Elena screamed as he bit her, the sound piercing the air like a pin bursts a balloon. The window blew open. The windows crashed against the walls and Klaus peered in her. It was obvious that he considered something carefully before he entered. _She cannot die_, he thought.

If Elena died, that would mean Katherine was doomed. He could not let that happen. Quicker than lightening Klaus caught Damon by the elbow and through him across the room into her desk. A crash of lightening tore the sky, masking the impact of his body, and for one fraction of a second a piercing light filled the room. She saw Damon's face, and it was not what she expected.

She was used to seeing arrogence in the set of his mouth, amuesment and sometimes cruelty in his eyes. But rarely had she seen him suprised.

He fell the the floor soundlessly. There was blood and ink all of his shirt when he turned onto his back. Her ink pen was sticking from his chest like a stake, it's metal nib having pierced his heart. He convulsed alittle before becoming like stone. He stared at her without seeing anything, but she thought that tears made his eye lashes thicker.

She didn't mind that ink would stain her clothes. She knelt beside his body and let her tears fall on his wasted chesk. She never meant for this to happen, and Klaus had promised to protect the ones she cared about. She had loved Damon.

"Ink runs like blood." Klaus said, motioning to her diary with his eyes.

She had written, _I don't care about Damon_ a hundred times over in her bid to convince herself that it was the truth. She had never really meant it, If only she had admitted to her self that she loved Damon Salvatore, she could have admitted it to him.

~Le Fin~

A/N: I hoped you liked that. I might write a darker story next time, just pm me if you think it's a good idea! Please review :-)


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